


Do As You Are Told

by Staymay5



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, listen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-19
Updated: 2014-11-19
Packaged: 2018-02-26 06:21:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2641343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Staymay5/pseuds/Staymay5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Do as you are told,” the words dance around in the Doctors head late one night. The thing is he isn’t sure who said them first. The Doctor reflects on things with Clara as he tries to sleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do As You Are Told

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably the most popular fanfiction I've written on Tumblr. I wrote it shortly after Listen, but can't help but feel happy every time I hear them use the line in the show. I hope you enjoy.
> 
> Tag: Post Listen

“Do as you are told,” the words dance around in the Doctors head late one night. The thing is he isn’t sure who said them first.

 

It had become something quite like a joke between them; passing back and forth between their lips, always accompanied by a smile.

 

_“Doctor! Don’t leave chalk lying around my flat, please,” she says quickly dashing back and forth doing lord knows what. They should have been on their way minutes ago doesn’t she know she’s burning their minutes together away?_

_“Why not?” he grumbles in false grumpiness, already bending over to collect the scattered pieces, “they’re just pieces of chalk, don’t see how they can be bothering you at all.”_

_He head pops around the corner, her eyes are twinkling and the side of her mouth is beginning to turn up in a smile, “do as you are told.”_

_“Yes ma’am,” he mock salutes. And he really does pick it up, well for the most part. He left a piece or two there carefully placed on her bookshelf. He’s not entirely sure if he put them there in case he needs them later or if he just did it to remind Clara he belonged there: among the other knickknacks from family and friends._

 

On adventures though those word were never used lightly and most certainly never accompanied by a smile.

 

_He strides down the corridor, fierce and angry, in a strut perfected through the year to strike fear into his enemies._

_And Clara strides beside him. Her legs are too short, it’s at least two steps to ever step he takes, and she’s practically running to keep the pace. But he could help but feel that anyone who knew better would fear her stride more than his._

_She’s carrying a wounded child they’d come across in her arms, he’d wanted to leave them- they’ll probably die anyways, but Clara is stronger than him. She is running down the corridor, holding that weight, comforting that child, holding back her anger at him and helping him come to a solution for their current problem._

_She is angry, she is fierce, and he is proud. Then she’s yelling at him and he’s yelling back._

_“I told you, you have to stand there and pull the lever I’ll hold them off,” he’s try to reason with her, help her see his logic, but it’s like the more he begs her to see the tighter she closes her eyes._

 

 _“_ _I’m not leaving you. You might be clever, but I’m not an idiot. The moment I pull that lever you’ll be stuck in there,” she hisses at him. Quite frankly he’ll allow it, he doesn’t care as long as she’s safe._

_“People will die if you don’t, that child will die if you don’t,” he tries one last bout of sanity amazed he hasn’t ripped all his hair out on his adventures with her._

_“Fine! You pull the lever then and I’ll distract them,” she says shifting the weight in her arms obviously growing tired._

_“Clara,” he growls at her, “do as you are told.”_

_The words come out cold and hard and he can tell he’s wounded her. He’ll wound her a thousand times over if it keeps her safe. Part of him wonders if that makes him sick._

_None the less she spins around walks over and pulls the lever._

_“Clara… I-” he means to apologize, or tell her how much he cares, or at least how proud he is. But the glass is down and she’s looking fiercely away (the way one does when they want to look at something but know they shouldn’t)._

_It ends well he thinks, until he sees the look on Clara’s face. She walks right past him in the T.A.R.D.I.S., she doesn’t say a word, and when she makes it to his room she slams the door. Someone tells him he was right, and despite Clara’s protests the child had indeed died anyways._

_He wishes he felt smug about it, or bad about wishing that at least. He doesn’t. He knows Clara is crying in his room, he can’t hear her but he knows. She never cries in front of him anymore, at least that he can recall. Perhaps it’s his fault. There’s a raw ach in his heart as he takes off, but he tries not to think too much on that._

The Doctor pulled one off the pillows towards his face smelling it. If Clara was here she’d make fun of him for that… he’d allow it. It smelt like her tears and the Doctor couldn’t help but think that she was doing a much better and more subtle job at reminding him that this is where she belonged.

 

_They’re hot, they’re sweaty, and they’re tired. The Doctor can’t help but think of much more fun ways they could have gotten like that. He sighs leaning against the counsel, “well that was a close one. And before you say something snotty: no I did not know that the race would involve crawling through a heated air vent.”_

_“Oh and let me guess you didn’t know those little coal things would be trying to kill us,” the comments meant to be sarcastic, but she sounds much too distracted for it to come across right. He lifts his head to look at her. There she is sitting on the stairs, eyes supper intense, tongue poking out of her mouth, pick-picking her scabs…_

_“Clara don’t do that, you’re going to get an infection,” she’s bleeding and he’s pulling at his collar trying not run over there and hold her hands down to keep her from picking. He wasn’t that man anymore, he wasn’t over protective, he wasn’t- oh sod it, “Clara I said knock that off.”_

_He’s looming over her and she’s waving him off, “yeah, yeah, I heard you. Just let me get this last bit.”_

_His hands shoot out of their own accord and pry hers away despite her protest of ‘hey’. “Do as you are told.”_

_His eyes are dead serious, life or death mode, but his lip is also twitching up and he’s left confused over what category this belonged in. Was this fun banter with his bossy obsessive control freak? Or was this a protective thing?_

_Her eyes get a twinkle in them and he finds himself stumbling back as her lips touch his cheek. She is smirking when she hops up, “whatever you say! I’m off to take a bath!”_

_She’s almost out of the room before he gets his wits about him. “Hey don’t use that bubbly bathing stuff! It clogs the drain!”_

_When she doesn’t respond he shouts louder, “I’m serious! You’re too small and you have no self-control! I’m not spending hours searching through foam for you- you hear me!”_

_“I’ll do as I like,” she shouts back playfully already disappeared from sight._

_“Do as you are told!”_

_There’s no response, just the light sound of her laughter coming from far away. And despite his protest three hours later he’s searching for her through the mounds of foam coming from his bathroom… he really needs to stop letting her bring that stuff on the T.A.R.D.I.S._

Before the Doctor knew what he’s doing he was up and out of bed rooting through Clara’s junk for something interesting to occupy his mind. He didn’t find any… other than Clara that is. Clara, Clara, Clara, Clara, Clara, Clara, Clara, Clara, do as you are told.

 

With that he gave in and made his way out of his room. Really why was spacing these things out so difficult? Hadn’t he just dropped her off?

 

When he landed in her flat it was dark, and seeing as he didn’t crush any of the furniture or materialize into their home he congratulated himself.

 

In a matter of minutes he was in her room, silent like a ninja, sitting on the ground, and peering over the edge of her bed at her sleeping face.

 

“Clara,” he whispered into the darkness and got no response.

 

Moving a little closer her shook her shoulders, “Clara.”

 

Still there was no response. He moved his right next to hers and violently shook her, “Clara, Clara, Clara, Clara, Clara, Clara, Clara, Clara.”

 

Her eyes flew open as she flew backwards off her bed, “cyber men a tutu!”

 

“Well that’s a weird thing to say,” he joked staring at her lying on the floor from his new found perch in her bed.

 

“Doctor?” she asked sleepily her eyes trying to adjust, “what are you doing here?”

 

“I’m glad you asked,” he whispered. “not sure why we’re whispering though. I was bored, were you doing anything?”

 

“Sleeping,” she replied annoyed like it was obviously slowly standing up to get back in bed.

 

“Well you’re up now, let’s go,” he said quickly in his over excited mode.

 

Before he could get up though she grabbed his wrist, “are you wearing pajamas?”

 

“Perhaps. That’s completely beside the point. I couldn’t sleep.”

 

“Bad dreams,” she teased lightly the corners of her mouth lifting up into a smile as she crawled under the covers.

 

“No,” he said like a petulant child, “I told you I was bored.” And he was… sort of. He also missed her, but it wasn’t like her ego needed any inflating.

 

“Shush,” she places her finger on his lips, “get in and go to sleep.”

 

“I just told you I’m not tiered,” he reiterated.

 

“Well I am,” she yawned, “plus if you aren’t tiered why’d you land in the middle of the night?”

 

“Well you see-”

 

“And why are you wearing pjs?”

 

“I’ll have you know-”

 

She placed her fingers over his lips, “Doctor, sleep, now. Do as you are told.”

 

He grumbled crawling under the sheets, “soldier Cyan okay with you sleeping with me?”

 

“We sleep together all the time, it’s not like we’re doing anything,” she mumbled cuddling up next to him and paused for a moment, “and it’s Pink, you’re just messing up his name on purpose aren’t you?”

 

“Me never,” he whispered squirming around trying to get comfortable.

 

“Doctor, sleep.”

 

“No,” he yawned pressing his face into her hair.

 

“Do as you’re told.”

 

‘She’s going to leave you.’ ‘Don’t get your hopes up.’ ‘She hasn’t left you yet.’ ‘Don’t fall in love.’ ‘You’re not her boyfriend.’ ‘Do as you are told.’

 

“As you wish Clara, as you wish.”


End file.
